


so i murder love in the night

by galaxyaesthetics



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Horror, Humiliation, Knifeplay, M/M, Monsterfucking, Non-Pokemon AU, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Tentacles, demon hunter raihan, demon piers, mentions of violence/gore and cannibalism, the inherent homoeroticism of trying to kill one another, they both have fun and no one dies or gets seriously injured dw, this one is a lot Don't look at me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27299968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyaesthetics/pseuds/galaxyaesthetics
Summary: Piers is a demon starving for human flesh, wandering the streets of Hammerlocke, and Raihan seems too delectable to pass up.Unfortunately, Raihan is maybe not the best human he could have picked to eat. Fortunately, though—things don't go nearly as badly as they could have, for either of them.
Relationships: Kibana | Raihan/Nezu | Piers
Comments: 13
Kudos: 70





	so i murder love in the night

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by these two drawings ([1](http://poipiku.com/463626/2366620.html), [2](https://twitter.com/yywyuda/status/1284548065035087872); gore warning for both). 
> 
> happy halloween!!! in classic Me™ fashion, i started this back in july and then didn't finish it until this week, ignoring my looming term papers hovering over me. this is, admittedly, a whole thing, so if there’s something you’d like tagged please do let me know!
> 
> anyways this is super convoluted but ive already committed to posting so whatever. im super embarrassed and i gotta go hide now im sorry y’all had to see me like this

It's sundown when Piers stops in his tracks, turning his head to locate the sweet scent being carried through the streets by the breeze.

It’s the smell of freshly spilled blood, however faint in the distance. His mouth waters. It's been some time since he last fed, since he's had to make sure Marnie always had something to eat; he hadn't realized just how hungry he'd gotten. It's incredible how strong the scent of his prey is; it overpowers the rest of the city's smells, and the scents of the people around him as well. It must be a particularly delicious specimen, for it to smell this good. 

Piers takes a step in the direction of the savoury scent, but then he hesitates, glancing around at his surroundings. It should be safe for him to hunt today, since he's in Hammerlocke, and, as an outsider, the chances of suspicion falling on him are relatively low. He knows these streets well enough to make a getaway if he must, and the den in Spikemuth is close enough to take respite should things go badly.

The scent flares up again, and Piers abandons all further doubt. He’s far too ravenous to care about the risks right now.

He follows the scent through the cobblestone streets of Hammerlocke, and tracks its source into a narrow backstreet near the edges of town. A tall, well-dressed man in a three piece suit under a heavy tweed overcoat is striding through the alley, looking over his shoulder with a tense expression.

The man’s pulse is thundering in his chest, and Piers can already picture how his heart will taste. He smells like the athletic type, and his frame looks that way as well, lean but properly muscled. His thighs are visibly well-toned even under those slacks, and coupled with his height, there is enough meat on his bones to keep him and Marnie fed for weeks. 

"S’cuse me," Piers calls out as he emerges from the shadows. The man starts, whipping about to pinpoint him, and Piers notes with pleasure that the man’s eyes are immediately drawn to his outfit before quickly snapping back up to his face.

He’s dressed for the hunt today, in tight leather pants and a cropped, form-fitting turtleneck, with his choker glinting in the lamplight and drawing attention to his thin collarbones. He knows he looks delectable, and there are plenty of heads turning his way as he strolls past; but he has his eyes set on one target, and he sways his hips with purpose as he approaches the stranger.

"Fine gentleman like you shouldn’t be out in this part of town," Piers says, visibly letting his eyes run slowly over the man's figure. "Could get mugged by petty thieves. Or worse."

"I am not from around here, you see." The man’s voice is smooth and controlled when he speaks, and he straightens up to his full height when Piers draws near. "I am afraid I have gotten turned around in these narrow streets, on my way back to my hotel."

Briefly, Piers considers whether it would even be worth bringing this man back to his hotel, or if it would be easier to simply lead him astray into an isolated alleyway, and kill him there. He’s feeling peckish, and rather impatient to dig into those thighs—but it would be a waste of a meal if he were to be interrupted, and besides, from the way this stranger is looking at him, he may be able to have some fun before he gets his dinner. He may not be a succubus, but who’s ever had a problem with him playing with his food?

So Piers lets a coy smile pull at the corners of his lips, the lilt of his voice dipping into a sultry tone. "I could show you back, if ye like. It’d be a shame if a face as pretty as yours were to get all bruised up." He ghosts his fingers over the suit on the man’s chest as he speaks, feeling the lean muscle under the expensive fabric. He can’t wait to sink his fangs into that lovely pectoral and gore it open to get at that beating heart.

Oblivious to his dark thoughts, the stranger colours, but he smiles politely and removes Piers’ hand from his chest. "Thank you—I would appreciate that. What is your name?"

The man introduces himself as Raihan, and explains that he is in town for business. Raihan does not elaborate as to what his work entails, and Piers is content not to ask, though he puts in the effort to make small talk as he leads him through the streets, peering over his shoulder every so often to gauge the taller man’s reaction. Raihan does little to hide his lingering gaze on Piers’ leather-clad ass as they walk, and likewise, Piers allows himself to be caught staring unabashedly at Raihan’s handsome features. He’s completely unable to resist the alluring scent of his prey, and Raihan is falling headfirst into the trap he’s set.

Raihan’s name seems somewhat familiar. A local celebrity, perhaps? No matter—it’s of no consequence, not when he’s going to be eaten by the end of the evening, anyways.

The hotel that Raihan directs him to is a rather well-known establishment near the city center, and really not that far of a walk away. It should be a straightforward trip there, but it's not like Raihan has to know if he decides to take the more scenic route instead.

The more they walk, the more it becomes evident that Raihan is clutching his hand tightly against his body in pain, and upon closer inspection, Piers realizes that there is blood staining his left sleeve. But Raihan does not seem the least bit bothered by the copious amount of blood seeping into his clothes, and Piers feels a flicker of envy pass over him. That suit can’t be cheap, if such expensive fabric has been tailored to fit his body’s proportions like that. Ugh.

Piers jerks his head toward Raihan’s arm. "What’s happened to ye?"

"Ah, this? I was attacked by a… rather aggressive dog," he explains, rather calmly. "It was attempting to maim a child."

Raihan winces a little in pain as Piers takes his hand to examine the wound. The puncture marks are not terribly deep, but the fang pattern is unusual for a dog. Ignoring Raihan’s grimace, he rubs his thumb lightly over the sodden fabric; even his blood is such a pretty dark red. 

"That’s unfortunate," Piers says, distracted by the heady scent of exposed flesh. "Better get it cleaned up."

It’s unbelievable how attractive the scent of Raihan’s blood is, rich and deep with a hint of earthiness; every time he speaks, he gets another whiff of iron, which makes it all the more difficult to keep up the conversation. It must be some kind of a miracle that no other demon is trying to contest him for his prey. Frankly speaking, he could not particularly care less as to what’s caused the wound on Raihan’s arm, only that he wants a taste of that blood _now_.

But there are too many people on the street, besides, and he needs to get Raihan’s guard down, lest he flee and disappear from Piers’ grasp forever. What a shame it would be, to lose a meal such as this...

Raihan is looking at him curiously; he probably shouldn’t scare him off just yet. He bites his lip, hoping Raihan can’t see when he runs his tongue over his fangs, and picks up his pace.

After a moment, Raihan speaks again, picking his words slowly like he’s trying to puzzle something out. “By the way, I intended to ask earlier, but you aren’t from around here, are you? Your accent… Spikemuth?”

That wary tone of voice doesn’t sit well with him. “...Does that change your opinion of me?”

“No, not at all,” Raihan says quickly. “Though I understand Spikemuth is… a rougher part of Galar. It _is_ rather dangerous there, is it not?”

“Depends on who ye ask. There’re lots of people workin’ hard to make an honest livin’ back home. Never had any problem there myself.”

It’s not a lie, technically, though that would only be because he’s the strongest demon in all of Spikemuth. Hell, he’s a large part of why Spikemuth is considered so dangerous to humans in the first place.

Raihan is looking at him thoughtfully. “I see. That’s good. And you are in Hammerlocke because…?”

“Just visitin’ on a whim,” Piers answers vaguely. “The food here’s better than back home.”

“That is a remarkable reason to be travelling so far,” Raihan laughs. “I assume you have somewhere you are staying?”

“Why, are ye offerin’ to share your bed?”

It’s very forward, but Raihan just smiles politely, the corners of his mouth pulled up like a pleased cat’s. As calm as he looks, though, his pupils are dilated with interest. Good. Keep stringing him along, and then...

"Here we are," Piers says, rounding the corner. The Draco Meteor Hotel is one of the grandest in Galar, its ornate Victorian-era facade standing out even amongst the medieval walls of Hammerlocke. Rather uncharacteristically, Piers finds himself faltering as they approach the front entrance of the hotel; even among all the men he’s seduced and eaten, he’s never been around such opulence. It’s unlike him to lose confidence, this far into the chase. But Raihan tugs gently at his wrist when they reach the front doors, turning him so that they are facing each other.

"I must thank you for helping me find my way back," Raihan says graciously, formality taking over his voice. For the briefest moment, he hesitates, glancing quickly at the hotel.

"Actually, I, er… I would like to get to know you better, Piers. Could I, perhaps... invite you to come up to my room with me?"

A monstrous grin threatens to split his face wide open, and Piers laughs behind his hand to hide his expression.

_Hook, line, and sinker. This one’s already dead._

"Thought you'd never ask," he says giddily, and he can’t help but bite his tongue in anticipation. 

In an instant, Raihan is pulling him into the hotel, a matching grin spreading across his features. He feels dizzy with excitement, anticipation, thrill of the hunt—it’s been a long time since he had this much fun pursuing anyone.

The inside of the lobby is even more ostentatious than the exterior, gold and marble and dark antique oak adorning every visible surface. Raihan swipes a keycard for the VIP elevator, and Piers watches in bewilderment as Raihan presses the ornate button for the penthouse suite on the top floor. It might be worth rifling through Raihan's belongings later, if he's this filthy rich.

The doors have barely closed behind them before Raihan is surging up to press him against the mirrored walls of the elevator.

"This is what you’re after, right?" he murmurs.

How polite. Piers responds by pulling him down for a filthy kiss, and Raihan reaches to cradle a palm around the back of his head. He has to stretch up on his toes to reach Raihan, but Raihan meets him halfway, caging him in with his arms and pressing his thigh between Piers’ legs.

The elevator chimes when it reaches the VIP suite on the top floor, and the doors open to reveal a sweeping penthouse, the last rays of dusk filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Piers nearly lets himself be distracted by the extravagance, but Raihan reaches down to hoist him up into his arms, and Piers gasps, clinging to Raihan’s shoulders as he is carried through the suite.

When Raihan moves to set him onto the mattress, Piers pulls Raihan down to join him in the sheets, laughing into the kiss as he nips at Raihan's lower lip. That has Raihan groaning, and he slips a hand under Piers' top, trailing his fingers over his ribs as he works the top off. But Piers guides his hand lower, and Raihan’s thumb brushes against the jut of his hipbone as he pops off the buttons on the front of his pants.

Piers lifts his hips to let Raihan work the leather pants off his legs, and bites his lip enticingly when Raihan's eyes catch sight of the lacy g-string he's wearing underneath. Raihan audibly sucks in a breath, and it's easy for Piers to roll them over so that he’s clambering onto Raihan's lap to work the suit off of his shoulders. 

"Hope ye don't mind your fancy suit gettin' all wrinkled up," he murmurs, running his tongue along the shell of Raihan's ear. He tosses the (way too expensive) fabric to the floor, and Raihan shudders as Piers works his way down to mouth at his pulse.

As he pulls back Raihan’s dress shirt, he notes, with disdain, the protective amulet hanging around Raihan’s neck. It won’t be much more than a minor nuisance for a demon of his caliber, and it certainly won’t be protecting him, so Piers decides to ignore it in favour of peeling the soiled sleeve off of Raihan’s left arm. The blood has coagulated somewhat, which has the fabric sticking to the wound. Resisting the urge to bite and tear at the flesh of Raihan’s arm, he quickly discards the shirt on the floor with the rest of their clothes.

"Should we take care of this first?" Piers asks, taking Raihan’s injured hand in his. The scent of his blood is intoxicating, distractingly, even, and bandaging the wound won’t matter with what he’s got planned; but he may as well pretend to be courteous, even if he’s aching to get their clothes off. 

To his relief, Raihan shakes his head. "It’s just a small wound—it can wait. I hope you don’t mind getting blood on these sheets."

"I’m not the one cleanin’ them up," Piers laughs. He wastes no time in unfastening the front of Raihan’s slacks so he can slip his hand in and wrap his fingers around his cock. Raihan breathes out a sigh, letting Piers slip off the last of his clothes, and tilts Piers’ chin closer to kiss him again.

Raihan is blazingly warm in the way only the living can be, and Piers can’t help himself when he presses his free hand to Raihan’s chest to feel the beat of his heart. Raihan shivers at the chill, but leans back obediently as Piers gently eases him down onto the mattress, until his head is resting on the plush satin pillows, gasping when Piers twists his hand just so around his dick.

For a human, Raihan’s got an impressive cock, large enough that Piers would almost be concerned, if he were human. His hips thrust jerkily into Piers' hand, and Piers repeats the motion, fascinated with how Raihan responds to the smallest touch.

Leaning down, he gives the head of Raihan’s cock an experimental lick, and when that gets him a contented sigh, he opens his mouth to further sink down on his shaft, maintaining eye contact all the while. Raihan pushes his bangs out of the way, and then uses his grip to urge Piers further down. His dick hits the back of Piers’ throat, and Piers loosens the muscles of his pharynx to keep taking more until his nose brushes against Raihan’s abdomen.

“Fuck, Piers, you’re incredible,” Raihan grunts, tightening his grip in his hair. The sting in his scalp only entices him to moan around the cock in his mouth, saliva pooling by his lips, and then Raihan is working his head up and down as he begins sucking him off in earnest, swiping his tongue along the underside where he can. Even when Raihan thrusts deeper into his throat, Piers takes it in stride without so much as gagging, eyes filled with amusement as Raihan watches him with wide eyes, rapt with desire.

He would be content just continuing down this path, blowing Raihan’s brains out until he gets to feast on his actual brains. But all too soon, Raihan is tugging at his hair with increasing need, and Piers pulls off slowly, giving the slit one last playful lick as he does.

"Get up here," Raihan says breathlessly, and Piers happily obliges, crawling over the expanse of Raihan’s body to kiss him. 

Delicately, Raihan curls his injured hand around the back of his neck, smearing blood into his hair and up his nape. The tang of iron is overwhelming, this close to his head, and Piers can feel his own breathing growing ragged as he breathes in more of that sweet, enticing aroma. 

Distracted as he is, Raihan picks that moment to reach over to the nightstand and toss him a bottle of lube, so he brings himself back to focus on the present. Kneeling over Raihan’s thighs, Piers positions himself so that Raihan has a clear view as he slips slick fingers between his legs and works himself open, making sure to pant and mewl when his fingers drag across his prostate. Utterly transfixed, Raihan is unable to look away, and slowly jacks himself off while Piers arches his back and makes a show of how good he’s feeling.

"Please," he whimpers. He’d love to continue teasing this out, but he's so close to getting what he wants. The air is thick with desire, almost tangible with how cloying it is; Raihan whispers something back to him as he reaches down to squeeze his ass, but he can't hear it past the blood rushing in his ears. 

Then Raihan tilts his head back and groans, and Piers' eyes zero in on his exposed throat. Something in him snaps; he can’t take the wait any longer. Sharp claws erupt from his nail beds, and his sclerae run black as Piers lunges with fangs drawn for Raihan’s jugular.

But the bite never connects. In the blink of an eye, he’s suddenly on his back with his wrists pinned above his head, and his skull knocks against the heavy wooden headboard. He hisses in pain, and through his swimming vision he can see Raihan perched above him with a self-satisfied smirk. There's a burning fire in Raihan's eyes, and when he pulls his hands away from Piers’ wrists there is a silver rosary binding him in place. Where the hell did he get that thing? Panic and fury boil over in his chest.

"What the fuck—"

"Thank you for finally attacking me. I was beginning to worry you weren’t actually a demon after all," Raihan says with delight. 

Piers snarls, words beyond him in his rage. His wings are trapped uselessly under him, no matter how hard he writhes about, so he lashes his tail at Raihan instead, intending to knock him off. But the other man is faster than him, and has him fully immobilized in a heartbeat, with his tail pinned under a knee. Raihan grabs him by his hair and harshly yanks his head back to scrutinize his horns, drawing a hiss from his clenched teeth.

"You must be the infamous Spikemuth demon. Well, I’ve got to thank you for saving me a trip out to Spikemuth," Raihan grins. Like a cat with its doomed prey pinned between its paws. "Even I don’t very well fancy the idea of willingly placing myself into a demons’ nest."

It’s beginning to dawn on him; there is a reason most demons tended to avoid Hammerlocke, after all, not least because a notorious demon hunter made this city his home. The most prolific in all of Galar, in fact.

Thinking back on it, Raihan had appeared unsettled from his injury when he'd stumbled upon the hunter, but his steps were hurried and certain, not lost. He'd always known where he was, and how to get back.

"Ye weren’t really ever lost, were ye," he says, and Raihan's content smirk confirms his suspicions. The holy relic suppressing his powers means his escape options are severely limited, and Piers thrashes about again, to no avail. "Why the fuck d’ye need such an expensive hotel room if ye live in Hammerlocke?"

"Like I said, business. I have an agreement with this establishment, and they let me use this penthouse whenever a hunt requires it. I'm sure you understand, but I don’t like bringing demons home," Raihan says, leaning over to retrieve something from his nightstand. "Nonetheless, it was very kind of you to show me back here."

As Raihan lights a stick of incense, muttering an incantation under his breath, Piers turns his gaze to the wound on Raihan’s arm. It’s unmistakably a demon bite; how hadn’t he noticed it before? Raihan must have just returned from another hunt, and Piers had gone and so nicely deposited himself right into Raihan’s lap for the slaughtering.

Stupid. So incredibly stupid of him—how had he failed to notice the scent of another demon clinging to Raihan’s own natural scent? How had he forgotten that Hammerlocke was home to _the_ most dangerous demon hunter in all of Galar? Fuck, he should never have allowed his hunger get to this point—stupid, reckless mistakes—

With growing panic, Piers yanks at his restraints, but his skin hisses as the rosary beads burn into his wrists. It's useless. Raihan pulls a silver knife out from a pillowcase, and he twirls it in one hand as he sits back to appraise him.

He knows that look. It’s the same look he gives his own prey, when he’s deciding on the best parts to eat first. A chill runs down Piers' spine. The bounties just for killing a demon pay incredibly well, but besides that, demon parts sell at a premium on the market. It’s no wonder Raihan bleeds money.

"You’ve got a nice voice, so I’m sure your vocal cords will sell for quite the sum." Raihan trails his blade over Piers’ throat to tilt his chin up. "It's too bad," he says. "I _was_ having fun. You're pretty good looking, all things considered."

Piers musters up the energy to spit in Raihan’s face. "Fuck you."

"And I would have let you, if you hadn’t tried to eat me." The smile drops from Raihan’s face, and all of his teasing has been replaced with solemn calm. "But I’m sorry to say, I’ll have to kill you now. I can't have you hunting down anyone else."

Piers flinches reflexively as the hunter picks up his knife, but that only serves to hurt himself further. There is nothing but cold apathy in Raihan’s features as he watches him flail about; then Raihan is murmuring a prayer, and the blade descends towards his chest. 

...No. Fuck this. He grew up in Spikemuth, and he grew up learning to fight for his life. He's not going to leave Marnie behind to fend for herself; he _will_ go home tonight. Even if Raihan is Galar's finest demon hunter, Raihan is only human, and he will take every last advantage he can get.

Pinned and bound as he is, he still has one trick left up his sleeve. Piers snarls as he thrashes again, pretending to let his binds occupy all his attention, and time seems to slow down as he searches for an opportunity. 

Raihan is sitting on him, immobilizing his limbs and tail. But while Raihan's full attention is on him, he’s undeniably overconfident; he isn’t looking behind himself, and his back is completely exposed. 

Sensing the chance to spill blood, a coil of his hair comes to life and shoots out to grab Raihan's armed hand with one tendril and wrap around his legs with two others. In one swift motion, Piers shoves Raihan off of him and reverses their positions. While his hair pins Raihan’s limbs to the bed, he presses his fists on either side of Raihan's neck so that the rosary is stretched taut across his jugular. Raihan strains to keep his grip on his dagger, but he's trembling from how hard he’s struggling against the demonic coils restraining him. 

Raihan wheezes, his Adam's apple bobbing under the tension of the rosary beads. A searing hiss becomes audible as the relic starts burning through Piers’ skin, but he pushes through the pain and presses harder to cut off his airflow.

"I don’t think so," Piers hisses, relishing when Raihan chokes from the sudden loss of air. "What'll it be, hunter? I can still let ye go."

"I’ll admit, this is the first time I’ve been bested by a demon," Raihan gasps. "Fuck—"

"There’s a first for everythin’," Piers scowls. He’s lucky a portion of his demonic powers manifested itself in his hair; it’s saved him countless times before, and today, he’d have been reduced to ashes without it.

One tendril opens up in a gaping jaw to hiss at Raihan, who visibly blanches at the sight of the jagged fangs embedded in the eldritch mass of hair. Choking desperately for air, Raihan bucks violently to try and squirm out of Piers' grasp, and his hair snarls and coils harder to restrict his movement.

This is his chance. The instant Raihan passes out from lack of air, he’ll make the kill, finally get his long-awaited meal. He’s sure Raihan’s viscera must be beautiful. Ah, but he’s already made too many mistakes today—it would be far safer to just make a run for it. He’s used up too much energy here, so he’ll have to make a sloppy kill elsewhere, without a proper hunt, and as for Raihan...

Piers takes a deep breath, and stills as the scent of sex and iron hits his brain anew. In that moment, sprawled over the massive bed with Raihan's blood all over him, the reality of the situation he’s found himself in sinks in. Despite everything, he’s still hard. The bite wound on Raihan’s arm is now bleeding profusely, having reopened during their tussle, and Piers can hardly think through the haze of want. It’s no surprise that gore turns him on. But surprisingly, beneath him, Raihan does not look as scared as one might expect a human facing down death to be. If anything, his cock is standing even more erect than before, weeping precum from the tip. Maybe it’s fear. But maybe...

Hunger is still gnawing at him from deep within, but between the bloodlust and his own blood rushing between his legs, another kind of hunger is beginning to build in him. He looks at Raihan, still hard and squirming beneath him, and ruts curiously against him, eliciting another hiss of pleasure from them both. 

_This is stupid_ , Piers berates himself. _Just kill him or flee. Don’t take any more unnecessary risks than ye have to._

But against his better judgement, he loosens his hold on Raihan ever so slightly, just enough that he can speak. Raihan gasp and coughs as his lungs fill with oxygen, but before he has a chance to fully recover, Piers replaces the rosary with his sharpened claws over Raihan's carotid. He presses the sharp points warningly into his skin, keeping a close eye on the hunter’s every move.

"Don't move. I've got a question for ye. Just answer me honestly, and you'll be fine."

"...Ask away," Raihan coughs, gritting his teeth. With all four of his limbs pinned down by thick coils of hair, it’s not like he has much of a choice, anyways.

Piers examines him closely, praying that he’s not about to make the stupidest decision of his miserable life. "Ye said ye would’ve let me fuck you, didn't ye? Ye still up for that?"

Raihan stills against him. He seems confused, actually, like this was the last direction he was expecting this conversation to go.

Growing impatient, Piers grinds against him once more. "Well?"

A groan slips from between Raihan’s clenched teeth, and he grunts, "I did say that, yeah, but I'm not so sure now that you've got barbs on your tentacle dick."

Ah, yes. Humans do tend to have a problem with barbs and spines being shoved into places not equipped to handle such things.

He does take offense to having his dick called a tentacle, though. Out of spite, he lets a few more... _appendages_ erupt from his flesh and run their spikes over Raihan's abs, before tucking them away again. Raihan grimaces at the sensation of sharp pricks running across his skin, but he can’t hide the way his hips arch upwards unbidden, and he's watching Piers with morbid interest.

"How about this, then," Piers breathes. 

He crawls over Raihan’s body, mimicking his movements from earlier in the evening, until he’s kneeling over Raihan’s hips, and leans down to give him a chaste kiss. Then, after a moment of consideration, he takes Raihan’s hand, still holding the knife, and slowly presses the blade against his own throat.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Piers warns, and slowly releases his hold on Raihan, demonic hair reverting to a more normal appearance. Dark bruises are already blooming over the hunter’s wrists and thighs, mottled purple in the patterns of the rope-like coils that had held him down.

Raihan watches the tendrils withdraw with a cautious eye, but instead of bolting for freedom, moves his free hand to rest on Piers’ hip. When neither of them move, Raihan courteously removes the rosary from his wrists, and tests him by pressing the knife harder against his throat. Piers hisses in warning, but doesn’t stop him.

“You’re an interesting one. Fucked up, even,” Raihan chuckles, and Piers is inclined to agree. Just having a consecrated weapon so close to his body is making his instincts go haywire, but he’s never been this turned on in his life.

“Comes with bein’ a demon.” He flicks his inhumanly long tongue down to lick at Raihan’s fingers. All the while, Raihan watches him with morbid fascination, and doesn't move when Piers' tongue grazes over his knuckles.

"What makes you think I won't just stab you in the back later?"

“Could ask ye the same thing,” he sneers. “Get on with it already.”

This only prompts Raihan to take his time, though, and he sits up with deliberate languor. The difference in their heights means that their eyes are level with each other’s, and Raihan keeps his eyes fixed on Piers' while hepositions the head of his cock tantalizingly close to Piers’ still-slick hole.

"You're not one of the ones with teeth down in there, are you?" Raihan murmurs. To his credit, he only sounds a little concerned about the possibility of having his dick bitten off.

"No, but I can be if that's what ye prefer," Piers huffs. "Ye can still fuck off if ye got cold feet."

Raihan responds by pushing into him in one fluid motion, and Piers hisses at the stretch. He only barely has enough time to adjust to the feeling of having Raihan inside of him before the hunter starts moving, pistoning ruthlessly into him with heated impatience.

“Fuck, Piers,” Raihan grunts. “You’re so— _tight_ —”

If he'd thought Raihan was exquisite before, then what he's doing now is absolute decadence. He had exercised a level of restraint when he was keeping up his polite hunter’s facade, but now, there is a haughty pride to how he carries himself, and the way he rolls his hips with unparalleled finesse has Piers gasping and clawing at his arms for something to hold onto, etching angry red lines into his skin. 

Raihan pushes him onto his back with a hand on his chest, knife glinting warningly against his skin. One wrong move, and he could so easily be the one bleeding out over the bed. The thought of his blood mingling with Raihan’s turns him on more than he’d like to admit, and the way Raihan is watching his every move, his every reaction, as he keeps driving into him—it makes his blood boil and rush to his head.

Unconsciously, one tendril wakes and curls tenderly around Raihan’s body. It opens up its maw, the tongue laving around Raihan's thighs before settling to prod at his tight hole. Raihan very nearly stops moving in surprise, but the gaping jaw bites down on his ass and pushes its wet tongue inside the ring, fucking into him viciously as a few other coils swipe their tongues across his abs. 

“Fuck,” Raihan mutters, breath stuttering in his surprise. “ _Hah_ , you keep surprising me, don’t you.”

He tries to reply with some sarcastic retort, but his thoughts are interrupted as Raihan doubles down on him, hitting his prostate with pinpoint accuracy, and he screams, words tumbling from his mouth in a mindless babble as Raihan continues spearing into him relentlessly.

“ _Ah_ —fuck, keep goin’, Raihan, _Raihan_ —”

“Do me a favour and shut up, would you?” Raihan growls, and he grabs Piers and forces his head down firmly to the mattress. The strength he’s exerting even in his injured hand, splayed over the demon’s face to keep him under control, is indicative of the rigorous training he’s gone through as a demon hunter—it’s not often that Piers finds himself at the mercy of someone else, so used to his demonic strength overpowering anyone else. 

Piers gasps wordlessly as blood from Raihan’s wound trickles freely into his mouth, the flow punctuated by sharp thrusts of the hunter's hips, and he whines as his body is wracked by uncontrollable pleasure.

“You’re a demanding one, aren’t you? Jjust sit there and take it,” Raihan grits. He doesn’t slow down in the slightest, and Piers feels a familiar heat building in his core.

It’s a brazen display of control, to place an injured limb so close to the bloodthirsty fangs of a demon; Raihan has to know what the blood is doing to him. He writhes and moans under Raihan’s iron grip, while Raihan continues fucking him at an unforgiving pace, and he claws blindly for a grip as a fresh wave of arousal courses through his veins. The scratches he leaves only make the smell of blood stronger, and the last of his self restraint finally snaps and dissolves into something feral.

Drunk on blood and fuelled by a sudden surge of strength, Piers seizes Raihan with inhuman strength and throws him harshly to the other end of the mattress. The hunter gives a shout of surprise as he is knocked over, but before he can move, Piers is crowding in behind him, tendrils slamming into him to pin his body down. Wings beating mercilessly to wrestle Raihan into submission, Piers only barely has the presence of mind to retract the barbs on his shaft before he thrusts into Raihan and begins fucking him with inhuman fervor.

" _Ah_ —Piers, _Piers, fuck—_ " Raihan gasps, the air punched out of his lungs as the demon snarls and pushes his hips down to better fuck into him. The abrupt change in position has Raihan dazed and winded, but he’s completely pliant and lets himself be rearranged however Piers sees fit.

Piers wants to wreck him. Wants to see him fall apart until he’s a teary, sobbing mess.

The rush of power from having this proud hunter submit to him like this, pliant under his touch for more, has some hunting instinct in him flaring up. A few tendrils of his hair morph into claws, grabbing Raihan's thighs to yank them further apart and give him better leverage. He forces a claw past Raihan’s teeth and scrawls a bloody line onto his tongue, craning Raihan’s head towards himself so that he can kiss him and taste the blood in his mouth. 

"Ye seem to like monster cock a lot more than ye pretend to," Piers giggles when he pulls away, smearing blood over Raihan’s chin. “Don’t wanna admit ye like getting fucked by monsters, is it?”

Raihan squirms, unable to respond past the fingers in his mouth, torn between denial and wanting to chase after his pleasure. In the end, he struggles to free one arm, and Piers lets him wrest his arm free and watches him reach for his aching cock.

“Never… been taken by a monster before,” Raihan laughs breathlessly as he strokes himself. “Usually I— _ah_ —finish the kill before they, get to stick anything in me—”

“Cute.” Piers kisses his cheek and pulls Raihan’s hips closer. “What would your fellow hunters say if they saw ye now? I bet ye'd even let me eat you, hmm?”

He leans down and lets his tongue sweep mockingly around the back of Raihan’s neck to taste the mix of sweat and blood, sensing a hitch in the hunter’s breath as he does so. But Raihan doesn’t try to reach for his knife, only flushes redder than before and shakes his head in protest.

“Ye wanna answer me, darlin’?”

“Like hell I would,” Raihan gasps. “Letting— _ah, fuck_ —letting a demon eat me? What kind of hunter would I be—”

“I don’t know that you’re in any condition to stop me. Looks like ye’re havin’ a bit too much fun, hmm?”

To prove his point, Piers gives a particularly violent thrust that has Raihan wailing into the sheets. There are tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, and Piers can’t help but giggle at the sight of Galar’s most distinguished demon hunter, reduced to a moaning wreck by his hand.

“I, _ah_ …” Raihan hiccups. “I can’t—I’m so close— _fuck_ ,”

“Ye’re safe with me, darlin’,” Piers whispers, relishing in how Raihan slackens at his words. “Proud little thing, ye’re just achin to be broken down, aren’t ye?”

Gently, almost lovingly, Piers laces his fingers over Raihan’s, and kisses the back of his neck with as much affection as he can muster, and it’s this tender gesture that pushes Raihan over the edge. With a gasp, Raihan tenses and spills onto the sheets, twitching uncontrollably, and Piers follows him soon after. He bites down on his shoulder with unsheathed fangs, clamping down as he spills over and pumps Raihan full.

For a moment, neither of them move. As Piers sinks his teeth down harder, Raihan stiffens briefly, but Piers holds his limbs still and does little more than lap at the pooling blood as they come down from the high. Raihan just takes the attention in silence, still trying to regain his breath.

Then there’s a metallic _klink_ , and Piers deftly rolls out of the way as Raihan's silver knife goes flying past his head. It’s a half-hearted throw; the trajectory of the knife wasn’t even close enough to be threatening.

“Way to thank someone ye just finished fuckin’’,” Piers huffs. "Guess that’s my cue to go, innit.”

Raihan doesn’t even look up, but there’s no venom in his voice when he finally speaks. “If I catch you hunting in Hammerlocke again, you won't be getting away with it next time.”

“Sure,” Piers drawls, slinking over to the window. “Hope ye had fun, hunter.”

He takes one last glance over his shoulder, to where Raihan is laying face down in the bloodied sheets. Then he hops out the window and dissolves into the night, resolving to get home to Spikemuth and find himself an easier meal elsewhere.

.

When all is quiet again, Raihan finally lets himself take a deep breath. 

If he's being honest, he'd gotten incredibly lucky. He could have killed Piers, _should_ have, but… Piers hadn’t killed him either. They’d both had more than enough opportunity to end the other’s life, but for the first time in all his years of demon-hunting, he let his prey go. Or rather… the demon let him go. 

The blood loss at his shoulder is almost negligible. The bite is so shallow, it’s already starting to clot over.

He should really be dead; he knows for a fact that if this had been any other monster, he would have lost his life the instant he let his guard down and got knocked flat on his back. He’s seen firsthand enough crime scenes of others less fortunate than he, with their throats torn out while in the throes—and yet here he is, alive. Lightly bleeding, with his guts rearranged, and suffering from a debilitating bout of post-orgasm clarity, but alive.

Oh god, he hopes human dick can live up to the sex he had tonight. Well, if he _had_ died tonight, at least it would have been from receiving the best dicking of his life—

Raihan groans and buries his head under a pillow to stop that thought in its tracks. 

He's really not looking forward to writing the case report for this incident.

**Author's Note:**

> remember to practice safe sex, folks


End file.
